


Prince Charming and the Doomed Mistress

by ufp13



Series: hooker!verse [1]
Category: Nola (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More or less a movie add-on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince Charming and the Doomed Mistress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/gifts).



When he had first called, she couldn’t believe it. It had been two years since the son of a bitch had – what? Broken her heart? It sounded dramatic but might be the most accurate description – and yet said heart was leaping as it had done back then, still not having shaken off this man, the only person who had ever managed to creep behind the walls she had erected in order to stay ahead of her business. After they had left each other, she had sworn to herself never to fall for him again, never to surrender to his charms again. Yet here they were; here she was – naked in his arms, having succumbed to his advances once more.

When it had first happened, when they had first happened, she hadn’t even noticed that her heart had been involved until it was too late. Women like her who lived in the world of paid love didn’t fall in love for it was bad for the business and never ended well. Happy endings just didn’t exist in her milieu. And why bother with something that was doomed to be a failure? She had always lived by this rule, had guarded her heart closely and added one brick after the other to the wall around it until she deemed it safe from any temptation or attacks of attraction. A misjudgement, a big mistake, as she found out later when she missed something after he had left her life. It had taken her some time to realise that he had quietly stolen her heart, had freed it from its ivory tower and carried it with him as he went. Their relationship had been a new experience for her after a long time without any personal relationship of the intimate kind, and it was exactly this intimacy that intimidated her. She wasn’t good at intimacy, didn’t know how to handle it, so she had shied away ever so often when it threatened to overwhelm, to suffocate her. Funnily enough, he didn’t fare better, and yet, they found themselves stumbling into it again and again. It was like intimacy had an invisible, irresistible pull on them; in reality, it was just the pull between them, but neither had dared acknowledge that for a long while – not to the other, not to oneself. Just how did you get a person with acrophobia onto a tower and have them enjoy the view, anyway? Regarding the beauty of what they had, could have, they suffered from ignorance, both afraid to lose what little they had, to get abandoned. However, in the end, that was exactly what had happened. Neither could tell if it had been her throwing him out or him leaving, if it had been her words or his actions that had led to their end; they only knew they both had played their role in it, were both to be faulted. Her call – motivated, driven by fear of losing a friend she had come to value – on his answering machine to meet her, to call her back, was the last contact until recently.

Her heart had rejoiced at being in one piece again, at least for the most part. She relished having her friend, her knight in shining armour back, the one person she could tease mercilessly and who would tease back in return. Bantering with him had always been a joy, one she had missed dearly ever since…

He hadn’t returned only as a friend, though. His mind was set to get it all, to get all from her, of her, and he didn’t back down until he had it, had her – again.

 

It had all begun before the dinner with Nola and Ben after he had confessed his newfound past to her, after he had looked her deep in the eyes and smiled that boyish smile of his but had said nothing; instead, he had silently placed his hand on her back just above her behind, barely within the range of appropriate, and had led her to the cab.

What was it about this man that had her forgetting herself? It wasn’t his looks; she had seen better, even though he wasn’t hard on the eye. He was the kind of man she had sworn to stay away from. They were trouble, danger for the heart if you didn’t pay close attention. Foolishly, she had thought her heart to be guarded, had thought herself safe from his charms; after all, she could look right through him, could read him like a book, having met hundreds of his type before.

Last night, he had proven that, despite his intentions, he still couldn’t ignore his macho side. As soon as they had entered the restaurant, she had noticed him checking out the young, blonde girls with their scantily clad cleavages. However, he had gripped her hand tighter, holding onto it like a lifeline, as if he was afraid to lose her again, to lose himself in the sea of temptation. He had made it clear that he hadn’t forgotten her during the last two years just like she had only suppressed the memory of him, never really having resolved the issue for herself. Although he had done it in his usual flippant manner to disguise his true feelings, he had called her in the end and, judging by the way he pulled her impossibly closer to him and how comfortable he seemed to be where he was, would not leave any time soon.

Two years ago, if he hadn’t left during the night, he had acted awkward in the mornings, rejecting, denying, shying away from the feeling of domesticity – just like she had, although she, contrary to him, hadn’t minded waking up with a warm body cuddled close to her who chased away the occasional feeling of loneliness from the big bed.

Now, he stroked her stomach, moving up in the motion ever so subtle until he reached her breasts and fondled them. Unable to feign sleep any longer, she hummed softly. Against her skin, she could feel his smile before he pressed his lips on her shoulder in a long kiss. He radiated contentment and happiness; they were evident in his every touch and infective.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

“It is.” He barely took his mouth off her skin to answer, breathing the words against it, and then continued to shower her with light kisses. Longing to kiss those lips, she tried to turn in his embrace. Not amused to be robbed of his favourite body part of the moment but soon seeing the advantages of a change of position, he let her turn, trailing his mouth along her collarbone and jaw as she went, finally capturing her lips in a deep kiss. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close, wanting him as near as possible, craving the connection without which she had gone for too long. With time, the long kiss was traded for shorter, faster ones. His hand that had continued to toy with her breasts, her nipples, moved down her body again until it reached the apex of her legs. Sneaking between her thighs, he gently stroked her sex in a caress that didn’t seem to aim mainly for arousal but was rather the physical manifestation of their freedom. They were bare of any barriers, finally open with each other, to each other without reservations.

She hadn’t really expected him to ever come back, had considered herself doomed to be unhappy in love for a very long time to come, had looked around for somebody to make her forget, to free her heart from Leo’s chains, but it had been a charade; she had never truly searched, subconsciously afraid to throw away the hope he would see the light. Being with him, she hardly recognised herself. With him, she became vulnerable, was the woman she didn’t let anybody see, the one who loved being swept off her feet instead of standing on her own, who relinquished herself to his mercy, preferring not to be in charge – not meaning she didn’t like being on top. However, at the moment, she rejoiced in his tender ministrations. His lips left hers, rather closing around a nipple as he slipped a finger between her labia. Slowly but surely, the intention of his touches transformed from the seemingly innocent caresses to a more bold kind that wandered the path of orgasmic release and would make a run for this goal soon or later.

He circled her wet opening, teased her clitoris, however made no move to go through with what he hinted. Between his hands and lips, he set her whole body aflame, awoke a carnal longing she hadn’t felt in this purity, this intensity in a long time. During their first intercourse, she had been surprised at how differently he made her experience it, how different he made her feel, how he didn’t simply consider her a medium for his pleasure as she was accustomed to being treated. It had caught her off guard when he took his time to ensure she got as much out of it as he, to explore her body and discover its secrets. Even now, it seemed that as well as her hands knew her body, his knew it better, hadn’t forgotten what her body liked, where it liked it. With shocking ease – had he always known her that well? – he continued to fuel her desire. She hummed and moaned loudly, needing an outlet for the storm of sensation that streamed over her body under his ministrations. His grin was unmistakable against her bosom when she instinctively sought out the contact, followed his hand with her hips as he teasingly pulled it away a bit. A lighter touch was simply unacceptable to her burning form. But apparently, he didn’t agree with that, and her body had to make due with what it got – not really a hardship in the end. He kissed his way upward to nibble her earlobe. “Do you have any idea,” he husked into her ear, causing her to shiver from the tone alone, “how beautiful you are? How often I dreamed of you like this? All hot, flushed with desire, trembling with lust.” His hands roamed over her body, traced the collarbones, kneaded her breasts, tweaked the nipples, caressed her stomach. “God, babe, I can’t get enough of you, of your curves.” She hummed in response, enjoying his actions to the fullest . “Hearing you moan turns me on. I just have to hear that sound again and again.” 

To emphasis his point, he pushed a finger into her, and just like he had wished, a loud moan escaped her throat. She couldn’t help her reactions to him, couldn’t mute them and didn’t want to, because she was well aware of how her indulgence affected him, of the truth of his words. It had been he who had patiently but with a vengeance taught her to surrender to a man’s ministrations, to enjoy. “It took me some time to realise it, but you’ve ruined me for every other woman. It’s you I want, babe, you I need.” He added a second finger, setting a fast rhythm while applying pressure to her clitoris and massaging it slowly. “Come for me, babe. Let me feel you.” She was writhing wildly by now; her body trembled, awaiting the imminent climax. Pressing her head back into the pillow, she arched even further into his touch. “That’s it, babe. Let go. Come. Come for me.” He adored her like this, loved the fact that he was the one who could make her forget everything around her, to blank out everything but the feelings he evoked within her body; that he was the recipient of the great gift of her trust never ceased to amaze him. She never allowed herself a moment of weakness, never lowered the shields that sheltered her vulnerable, emotional side unless she was with him. It had surprised him that a woman who earned her living in the business of sex, was apparently rather unacquainted, uncomfortable in the tender game of lovemaking. However, after he had overcome her initial inner resistance, she had opened up more and more to him – at least in bed, or wherever they happened to be when lust overwhelmed them. And obviously, her body still remembered his touch, still was attuned to it, responded to it with a mind-blowing passion, but Leo wanted more, wanted all she had to give. Forcefully, he shoved his fingers into her as far as he could, and that was all it took to throw her over the edge. She cried out when the first orgasmic wave hit her hard. Leo didn’t halt his motion, though, only lightened his touch as he continued to stroke her sex. All the time, his eyes were fixed on her face, renewing his memories, imprinting every detail of the breathtaking sight she presented to his mind.

Slowly, she came down from the height, her bosom heaving with every panted breath, occasional aftershocks causing her form to shake slightly. Her pebbled nipples proved to be an irresistible temptation, so he leaned down and breathed an open-mouthed kiss onto each, suckling them lightly.

“Leooo…” she breathed. Grabbing his head with both hands, she guided his lips to hers for a deep kiss. “Thank you, Leo. I needed to hear that.” She smiled at him.

“And it was about time I admitted it,” he whispered, a look of apology and regret in his eyes.

She didn’t answer him verbally, simply caressed his neck.

For a while, he looked her in the eyes, communicating his pleasure at her touch and his love, then leaned down to press his mouth to hers, running the tip of his tongue over her lower lip until she granted him access. Deepening the kiss but keeping its slow pace, he nudged her tongue to join his in a dance. She didn’t have to be asked twice. Languidly, their tongues wound around each other, fondled, teased, caressed, moving back and forth between mouths. While the kiss dragged on, Leo shifted closer and closer to her until he came to rest atop her, cradled between her thighs, his erection pressed against her warm centre. He groaned into her mouth as he rubbed his groin against her. The soft flesh of her breasts against his chest, her legs wrapped around his hips rocking against his, he felt like he was in heaven. Last night when he had felt her naked skin on him for the first time in years, he had realised just how much he had missed this delicate woman.

During the last two years, he had fucked quite a few women, unable to reject an offer to release some sexual tension, but while those usually blonde and much younger broads had helped scratch an itch, they had never reached him on the emotional level. A good friend used to tease him that he would lose his heart to a woman he would least expect. And he had been right. Margaret was close to his age, even a bit older, and independent, had dark hair and didn’t take any nonsense from him. In short: she was everything he never hunted for and yet everything he wanted, everything he needed. When he had first started to meet her regularly, his friends joked he should have his head examined, that he couldn’t be serious about dating a woman who didn’t seem to fit his taste at all, even asked him which bet he had lost to go on a date with something as old as she. Back then, he had just laughed with them, today he would look them in the eyes and state proudly that he was indeed serious. Having been ashamed of her – not because of her profession, though, which had never bothered them, especially not since she had retreated into the background, so to speak, and her involvement was of coordinating, organising quality only – was one of the many things he regretted, felt guilty about. One shouldn’t be ashamed of having such a classic beauty by his side, especially not when she had the habit of not giving her heart and, in private, also her body lightly – as he had only learned when it was more or less too late, when his ego wouldn’t let him call her, fight for her. He had been such an idiot. Fortunately, he was an idiot with a heart, though. A heart that refused to crumble to the ego-patting behaviour of his mind, that made him finally dial her number if only to have tried it and know for sure that it was too late. Well, obviously, it hadn’t been or she wouldn’t be here, naked with him, his cock in her hand, guiding it into her.

Groaning loudly, he slid into her inch by inch until he was embedded in moist heat to the hilt. As he pressed against her pleasure point, she arched her back, providing him with the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and turn them over so she was lying on top of him. Taken by surprise, she squealed and sat up to look at him, the change of angle eliciting a sound of pleasure from both of them.

“Sluggard,” she grinned.

“Epicure,” he shot back and cupped her dangling breasts with his hands, kneading them, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. In response, she clenched her inner muscles around his member before lifting her hips and setting an unhurried rhythm. At first, he contented himself with fondling her breasts and watching her ride him, but soon, that wasn’t enough, especially since she seemed to have no intention of speeding up the pace. He needed more friction, more pressure, more of her, needed it harder, faster.

Grabbing her hips to steady her, he began to move in counter rhythm, driving his hard length into her. Willingly, she followed his lead, embraced the more rapid tempo for her own arousal was bordering on orgasmic heights.

The wet sounds of their bodies coming together time and again mingled with their cries and moans, with words of enjoyment and some that faintly resembled their names. It didn’t take long till he cried out in release and emptied himself into her, or for her to follow him into the bliss and collapse onto him.

Her still somewhat erratic breath caressed his chest while one of his hands lazily strolled over her slightly sweaty back, the other resting possessively on her buttocks. She couldn’t help but smile and feel happy in his embrace.

She expected him to eye other women, maybe even to flirt, but as long as he didn’t touch them and acknowledged her exclusive ownership of him, she could live with that. After all, you couldn’t change the very essence of a person, and, to be honest, she wouldn’t have him any other way, for this was the man she had fallen for, the man who had captured her heart against her wish, the man who still held it, whose heart belonged to her in return even when his eyes not always did. With her, he shared an intimacy he wasn’t normally comfortable sharing with anyone, an intimacy that was new for him – just like it was for her. They would both have moments when the old habit of denying it would surface; they both still needed lessons in accepting it. But having lived the stark contrast, the contactlessness, for the last two years, they knew that the struggle would be worth it.

 

= End =


End file.
